Flash Fictions 6: Thoughts to Mothman


I’m not a doll. I’m an action figure.

I’m the token toyline good-girl. I should hate the enemy Blue Leader! But after a week lost with him in the sandbox, my Kung-Fu grip longs for his.

He’s a bad-guy. Not a bad guy.

I lift the mask of my cherished adversary.

The Silence of Mars

All feared they could return. Yet Mars had been silent for a century.

We land. Not with tripods and heat-rays, but rovers that find lifeless cities. Dead, desiccated Martians.

Dissenters whose lamentful murals beg forgiveness for failing to stop the war.

Dinosaur Ride

There is tremendous freedom to be found flying on a pterosaur.

He’s not a jet. But he is a friend. I pat him between the rhythm of flapping wings.

“You’re good, for a beginner!” Zarra shouts from her soaring mount.

I look to my cavewoman savior. “I love it!”


“Extra sensory perception?” she scoffed. “Do you send telepathic messages to Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster too?”

“Only to Mothman,” the blind woman said.

The reporter smirked. “What’s he like?”

“Ask him. He’s behind you.”

She then heard a sighing breath.


Javier and Raúl stomped the scientist dead. “Stupid! Dying for butterflies!”

A butterfly landed on Javier. It left a rosy blemish.

Javier fell dead.

Raúl gasped. Butterflies, ten thousand in number, took flight.

He screamed as they swarmed him.



Copyright © 2020 by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

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